Mystery of the 19th Hole (Taylor Kelsey, Mystery 1) (4 page)

             
“Correct.”

             
“Phew!” exclaimed Susan.

             
“What?”

             
“You said
correct
instead of
yes
.  You’d said
yes
four times in a row before that.  Thank you for the switch.”

             
“Your welcome.  Continue,” said Taylor.

             
“Okay.  Other than the circumstantial evidence: the time Aaron went into the bathroom and the murder weapon found in his pocket,” Susan said in an expressed tone, “he had a crush on Chelsea, the waitress, who was dating Brad Ringer.  That’s motive, means, and opportunity, which is what police detectives look for in a suspect.”

             
Taylor nodded.  “Susan, Susan, Susan.  You might be forgetting that Aaron Cadell is still only a suspect.  Albeit the evidence is stacked against him, but that’s the very reason I think he is innocent.”

             
Whipping out a folder and opening it before Susan, Taylor explained, pointing to the picture on the top, “Exhibit A.  Aaron Cadell’s jacket was zipped up the entire time he was in the restaurant.  He swears it.”

             
Susan looked at the picture of Aaron with the zipped-up jacket.  “He’s not bad looking.”

             
Taylor put the top picture on the bottom.  “He’s in college.  You can’t have him.”  Then, “Exhibit B.”  Susan was now looking at a picture of the café bathroom.  Taylor pointed to the stalls.  “The suspect Aaron Cadell could have dropped the knife in any one of these bathroom stalls and flushed it.  Why did he keep it?”

             
“Maybe he thought he wouldn’t get caught.”

             
“Susan, have you ever read ‘The Tell-Tale Heart’ by Edgar Allen Poe?”

             
“Correct.”

             
“Very funny.”  Taylor fake laughed.  “The criminal always tries to hide the evidence, and they always try to get it as far away from them as possible.”

             
“Maybe the knife was an heirloom.”

             
“I don’t think so.  Also, look at Aaron.”  Taylor switched the picture back to Aaron Cadell.  “You said it yourself, he was good looking.  He could have got any number of dates, thus he didn’t need Chelsea.”

             
“Maybe he loved her.”

             
“Maybe hitherto,” said Taylor.

             
Susan sighed.  “Hitherto.  What is this, the fifties?”

             
Taylor didn’t respond.  She was deep in thought.

             
Susan flipped a page in her notebook and muttered as she wrote.  “And Taylor thinks the cases are connected because Aaron Cadell’s dad, Jack Cadell, worked at the café and quit one day before the murder happened.”  After she finished writing, Susan slapped the notebook onto the table and stuck the pen through her naturally wavy black hair onto her ear.

             
“Oh,” exclaimed Taylor abruptly, “I almost forgot something.”

             
“Good because thus far I’m not convinced.”

             
“Mr. Mahoney, the museum curator where the large painting was stolen, has put up a reward.”

             
“How much?”

             
“Fifteen thousand.”

             
“I’m convinced!” remarked Susan immediately.  “But can we go to that new fair tomorrow; it’s only gonna be in town for two months?”

             
Taylor smirked.  “No, we have to investigate.”

             
“There’s going to be an elephant,” replied Susan, as if that was a great incentive.

             
“No.”

             
“There’s going to be an elephant,” Susan repeated in the same awe.

             
“No, I don’t care for elephants.”

             
“There’s going to be an elephant.”

             
“Okay, fine.  I’ll capitulate,” said Taylor.  “But not because of the elephant.”

             
“Then why?”

             
“I just remembered something.  Let’s leave it at that.”

             
“Whatever,” said Susan, “I just can’t wait to see the elephant.”

             
Later that day, in between their final classes, Taylor and Susan talked again in front of their lockers, which were side by side.

             
“Tell me again, I forgot,” said Taylor.  “How did you get the principal to have our lockers side by side?  I mean, you were originally two halls down.”

             
“I’ll just tell you two things about that,” said Susan.  “The principal has no friends in the teachers’ lounge, but he makes a mean peanut-butter and syrup sandwich.”

             
Taylor laughed.  “Now I remember why I can never remember the story: you never tell me.  Why are you so vague?”

             
“I prefer the word
obscure
.”

             
“Whatever.” 

While Susan was reaching for something deep within her locker, Taylor saw the principal coming their way.  “Hello, Mr. Principal,” said Taylor.

             
The principal smiled.  “Hello, Taylor, how is everything going?

             
“Good.”

             
“You know, I was wondering something,” the principal began, “are you going—”

             
The principal stopped for no apparent reason.  “What’s wrong?” Taylor asked.

             
“Uh, hi, Susan, I didn’t see you there.”  The principal was looking at Susan who had just emerged from her locker.  “I—I think I’m late to something.  Bye, kids.”

             
Speed walking away, the principal glanced back as if to make sure he wasn’t being followed.

             
“Okay,” exclaimed Taylor, “you’ve got to tell me what you did to that poor man.”

             
“Nothing.  I’m always just myself.  You know that.”

             
“That’s what I was afraid of.”  Then Taylor gasped.

             
“What is it?”

             
“You know how I’m mostly always mature?” said Taylor.

             
“Yeah.”

             
“Well, it’s hard to contain that maturity when I see
him
.”

             
“Him?”

             
Taylor turned Susan’s head to where she was looking.  “Jason.”

             
“Oh, him.  Yeah, I don’t know what you see in him.”

             
Taylor started mumbling, “Long blond hair with highlights, blue eyes—”

             
“Strong, strapping, and captain of the football team, I get it.  But you do know he’s incredibly dumb.”

             
“I know.  But who cares?  And of all people, why do you care?” Taylor asked Susan.

             
“Allow me to elucidate: talking to someone as dumb as Jason is like talking to a wall.”

             
“You do that all the time, anyway.  What’s your real problem with Jason?”

             
“Okay, I’ve only talked to a wall once,” said Susan, “and that was under strange and un-probable circumstances.”

             
“I’ll say.”

             
“But I’m telling you, he’s dumb.”  Susan thought for a moment about what to say that would prove her point to Taylor.  “For example, he can’t decide whether to ask you or Abby Adamson to the dance.  Everyone knows, including me though I’m extremely slash barely jealous, that you’re the hottest girl in the school.  Every boy wants to date you.  But of course, Jason doesn’t recognize that, which is what I call dumb.”

             
“Whatever you say,” muttered Taylor in an elated trance.

             
“Whatever to you.”

             
Jason, blond hair slightly waving with every step, approached them.  “Hey Taylor.”

             
“Hey.”

             
Then Jason saw Susan.  “And Susan!” he exclaimed with a tinge of fear in his voice.  “And Susan,” he repeated in a normal tone.  “I would never forget you.”

             
“Got that right.”

             
Taylor cut Susan off there.  “So, what are your plans for… you know, the next two weeks?”  The dance was in two weeks.  Taylor was trying to get him to ask her to it.

             
Jason smiled.  “Oh, I got this sweet motorcycle.  It’s in my garage.  Only my mom won’t let me ride it.  But this weekend I’m going to.”

             
“To ride it?” asked Taylor.  “You just said your mom won’t let you.”

             
“Noooo.”  He chuckled.  “She just won’t let me ride it
in the street
.  I’m just going to rev it up in the garage and putt around.”

             
“Just two things,” said Susan, “if you’re really going to ride it in the garage, which I sadly believe.  Make sure you drive in circles, not into walls, and open the garage door so you don’t get carbon monoxide poisoning.”

             
Jason frustratingly took mental notes.  “Wait, what was the second thing again?  Don’t mix car bombs with Tide?”

             
Susan replied, “I think you might already have carbon monoxide poisoning.”

             
“Cool.  So does that mean I’m immune?”

             
“Hey,” Taylor said, glaring at Susan now, “why don’t you just not ride the motorcycle this weekend.  Besides, don’t you work at the fair?”

             
Jason thumped himself in the side of the head.  “You’re right.  I don’t know how I could have forgotten.”

             
“I do,” muttered Susan, smiling mockingly at Jason.

             
Jason pointed at Taylor and Susan as if they were the smartest thing since inflatable footballs (according to him) and said, “Thank you,” and walked away.

             
Susan was just about to make fun of Taylor for liking such a dumb guy as Jason, when an angry voice said, “Hey!  What do you think you’re doing?”

             
Taylor and Susan didn’t even need to look to know who was speaking.  Abby Adamson.  Their mortal enemy since the start of the previous year.  The girl had been held back in the third grade and was one year older than everyone in her current grade.  She was strikingly pretty, second only to Taylor and possibly tied with Susan, having a slightly freckled face combined with long dark hair. 

             
Her attitude was the only thing that didn’t match her appearance.  And, at this moment, her voice.  “What do you think you’re doing talking to
my
boyfriend?”

             
Susan laughed.  “He’s not
your
boyfriend.  By saying that, you’ve lumped yourself with the host of other girls who claim the same thing.”

             
“Who cares?  But he’s going to ask
me
to the dance.”  Abby stepped right up to Taylor’s face.  “So don’t get in my way.”

             
“If he’s going to ask you,” said Taylor calmly, “then why are you so mad?”

             
Abby calmed down.  “It’s not that…”

             
“Then what is it?” asked Susan.

             
“I’m just making sure,” said Abby.  Taylor and Susan rolled their eyes.  Abby continued, “I have a black belt in Karate, I’ll have both of you know.  So don’t mess with me.”

             
“Do you think Jason is the kind of guy who’s impressed by a pretty girl who can put someone in a choke hold?” asked Taylor.

             
“I wouldn’t be surprised if he was,” said Susan with a broad smile.

             
“Nobody asked you,” retorted Abby.  “This is between me and Taylor.”

             
Susan stepped between them.  “And now I’m between you and Taylor,” she said with another joking smile.

             
Taylor stepped sideways and faced Abby.  “I’ll have
you
know that I’m solving a mystery not even the police can solve.  I think Jason will be impressed by that.”